


Bear Hugs

by nonbinarybead



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, k2week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinarybead/pseuds/nonbinarybead
Summary: For K2 Week 2019!Kyle Broflovski and Kenny McCormick are best friends up until they turn 12 and Kenny's family moves away. The two lose touch and later reconnect in college.I'm going to try and lessen my angst in this lol





	1. Play Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Day One: Cuddling :)  
Hey there hi there ho there  
Thank you for reading my K2 week stuff! Every chapter stems from each prompt.  
Enjoy!  
Love,  
Kyle, Your Local Garbage Gay

**November 2012**

“I’m telling you, it was bigger than any other bear we’ve seen around here!”

“Yeah, you’ve told us. Stan doesn’t believe you.”

Their breathing broke out in frozen clouds, their boots clomped over solid mud and scattered twigs behind Kenny McCormick’s house.

“Do  _ you _ believe me?” Kenny asked, tightening his hood around his small, freckled face. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had seen the gigantic bear. Even the adults thought Kenny was being theatrical. 

“I believe that you  _ think _ you saw a ‘roided up black bear,” Kyle Broflovski answered, the beam of his flashlight swaying from tree to tree, “But until I see it myself, I’m going to keep being skeptical.”

“You brought your camera, right?”

Kyle patted his front pocket, “Yup.”

“Well, she shouldn’t be long now. I’ve been watching her. She usually comes here to scratch her back on the trees,” he pointed to an upcoming clearing, a couple of miles deep into the woods. They lost the comfort of a dim back porch light awhile ago.

“She?”

“Yeah. I named her Big Bertha.”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“I didn’t see a dick.”

“So? Just because you didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Oh, yeah? Did I hit too close to him, Kyle?”

“Shut up.”

Kenny grinned. They continued on in silence, hyper-aware of every leaf crunched, every sharp inhale. They often hung out in comfortable silence like this. They would sit in front of the Broflovski’s couch, entangled in wires, the floor littered with random parts. They picked apart and reassembled anything they could get their hands on: computers, telephones, blenders, remote-controlled cars, a Sega Genesis, a boat motor. Their combined curiosity of wanting to know how things worked would sometimes cause trouble. Most recently, Kyle’s mother came home to find the boys examining their brand new, freshly dissected toaster at the kitchen table. Her shrieking forced them to quickly put it back together.

Kenny loved working with his hands so much that he started making new things from old things. Kyle decided they would use leftover money from his 12th birthday and buy cruddy electronics from the thrift shop. Things they could manipulate all they wanted.

Over the years, Kyle had found that he had more in common with Kenny than anyone else in South Park. He always thought Stan best fit that role, but Stan was, and Kyle hated admitting this, just like everyone else. Kyle had more in common with Cartman than he did with Stan nowadays.

Kyle and Kenny were outsiders. Kenny and his family were the poorest in town and often talked about with pity. Kyle’s family were the only Jews in a town of all Catholics and were often made to feel excluded. They always invited Kenny to their holidays and found that he meshed well, becoming an honorary Jew.

“You know bears go down on each other?” Kyle asked with a sly smile.

“No way.”

“Way. Scientists did a 10-year study on two captive bears.”

“Mama and Papa bears?”

“More like Papa and Papa.”

“Oh. That’s… cool.”

“Got a problem with gay bears, Ken?”

“Nah. No. Of course not,” Kenny started walking faster. “We’re almost there.”

“What are we going to do if it attacks us?”

“We’ll be in the tree, so she won’t see us. But if something happens...” his voice lowered, as cold as the November air. “Play dead.”

“Does that actually work?”

Kenny shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. I brought pepper spray too. Just in case.”

They continued walking until they reached the clearing. Kyle panned the flashlight across the snowy ground, then up into a barren maple.

“Let’s go into that one,” he grabbed Kenny’s shoulder.

Moments later, sitting in the branches, they stared together at the ground. Kyle glanced behind them now and then with the flashlight. 

“What time is it?”

Kenny checked his tiny, gray flip phone, “6:37.”

“It got dark fast.”

“It always does.” Kenny fidgeted with the strings of his jacket, “So, um. Can I talk to you about something?”

“Did you get your period?” Kyle asked without even looking up.

“I’m being serious, dude.”

Kyle straightened up, looked around the tree trunk that separated him and Kenny, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is really wrong, I just… I don’t know. Let me ask you a hypothetical question.”

“Okay.”

“Totally hypothetical.”

“Sure.”

“Would you hate me if I told you I was moving?”

“...no,” Kyle noticed that Kenny had been quieter than usual the past couple of weeks. He figured something was up but didn’t want to pry. “You’re moving?”

“...yeah.”

“Where? Like another city by here?” he hoped Kenny would say yes.  _ Yes, we’re just moving to the next town over. I’m not leaving you. I just won’t be down the street anymore. _ But if he wasn’t moving far, Kyle knew, he wouldn’t be approaching this so delicately, wouldn’t have held it off for so long. 

“We’re moving to Detroit.”

“Michigan!?”

“Yeah.”

“But isn’t Detroit supposed to be, like, awful?”

“It’s supposedly getting better,” Kenny shrugged. “My dad got a job at Ford.”

“When are you moving?”

“Next month. My dad leaves Tuesday and the rest of us will follow,” Kenny scratched at the frozen bark. “You know, it’s kind of funny. My great-great-great-great grandparents came here to mine gold. To build a better life. They never had any luck though. At least for us, it’s a sure thing. Everything is going to change for us.”

Kyle nodded. Kenny couldn’t see it, but his eyes were wet. “You’ll keep in touch though, right?”

“I will,” Kenny said with a slight scoff. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because. You know how these things go. People say they’ll stay in touch but it’s all lies. They forget about each other.”

“That won’t be us.”

“Just watch.”

“Kyle-”

“-Don’t.”

“No, Kyle,” Kenny pointed, “Look!”

About 300 feet in front of them, a vast black mass meandered through the trees, her heavy paws clomping with every step.

“Holy shit,” Kyle gasped, “She’s fucking huge.”

“I told you!”

Bertha crept toward them, sniffing the ground. Kyle handed Kenny the flashlight so he could snatch his camera. 

“How long do you think she’ll stick around here?” Kyle whispered.

“I don’t know… just don’t move too much and hopefully, she won’t notice us.”

Kyle snapped a photo, the flash briefly illuminating the woods. Bertha didn’t seem to care. She pawed at the bottom of their tree.

“Aw,” Kyle said as if he were watching a puppy.

“She has to be at least 700 pounds,” Kenny looked down at the top of her head. More aggressively now, she pushed into the tree, digging her claws in. “Oh, fuck-”

Locking stares with the boys, Bertha climbed the tree, her snout just inches away from their dangling feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kyle’s swears harmonized with Kenny’s. 

“Fuck, dude, we have to get off!”

“How?!”

“How do you think?” Kenny reached behind and gripped Kyle’s jacket, forcing them both off the tree, landing backward in a snowbank. 

Kyle groaned and turned to his side. Kenny was stronger than Kyle had ever thought, or maybe it was the adrenaline of the moment that helped Kenny pull them both back and cover him with his own body.

“Don’t move,” he whispered and Kyle felt it ripple through his whole chest. Bertha approached them. Kyle felt Kenny shaking.

She ran her nose along the boys’ faces with the investigative manner of a bloodhound, her heated breath grazing their red cheeks, then placed her heavy paw on the center of Kenny’s back and pushed down, forcing a narrow, frightened grunt out of him. Bertha backed off. The boys slowly turned their heads to see if she had gone.

Kyle pissed himself. Her position switched to standing up, her height towering above Kyle’s expectations. 

Skepticism was flattened and thrown out, an acceptance of death by bear-mauling took its place. The roaring was unlike anything Kenny had ever heard - a deep breathy bass that drew air around them, a statement of the hunt, a warm battle cry. 

Before she could lace her claws into their flesh, Kenny whipped out and sprayed the mace as hard as he could, rolled over with Kyle until they were at a safe distance. Bertha backed away, stumbling, pawing at her face. 

“Holy shit,” Kyle breathed.

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

* * *

Kenny lied on his mattress, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling, listening to his CD player. His family was letting Kyle stay the night. Usually, it was the other way around, with Kenny in the Broflovski shower instead. 

Kyle was awkward, quiet, and prickling with anxiety. Most of all, he was lonely. Others seemed to like him fine, but he was never the one that idle thoughts drifted to. When Kyle wasn’t with Kenny, he was alone. If someone did talk to Kyle, he’d often overshare, turning the conversation into a soliloquy. 

His face had taken on the expression of his mother, permanently worried, mouth always turned at a tight angle (Cartman teased him for having “resting Sheila face”). A sort of nervous tick surfaced: Kyle often rubbed his wrists and hands together like a fly or a cricket. He was told not to think about it too much and eventually it would go away. He liked the skin on skin contact. The friction reminded him that he was alive.

The water down the hall shut off, and soon Kyle was in Kenny’s doorway, wearing flannel pajamas. Kenny had an earbud out.

“I didn’t pack extra jeans for tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“I have sweatpants you can borrow. They’re a little holey, but it’s not noticeable.”

“Thanks,” Kyle mumbled, sliding into his sleeping bag on the floor. Kenny shut off the nightstand lamp, then curled up with the beach towel he used as a blanket. “So are you going to tell everyone at school I fucking pissed my pants?”

Kenny chuckled, “Nah. I almost did myself.”

“That was so stupid of us to do,” Kyle said, playing with a loose string on the Terence and Phillip sleeping bag. “We almost died. Our parents would have found chicken-shredded bodies.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me… I just wanted someone to believe me. No one ever believes me about anything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Kenny.”

“You wanted to.”

Kyle smiled to himself. A small warmth rose in his belly. “Thank you for protecting me. Even if you kind of molested me in the process.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“So can I ask  _ you _ something? Something hypothetical.”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy that you’re moving?”

An exhale from the mattress. “No. I’m happy for my family. But I don’t want to leave here. Everyone I know is here - Stan, Cartman, Butters… you, most of all.”

“I guess we don’t have a lot of time…”

“I guess.”

Kyle rolled onto his back. “What are you listening to?”

“The Beatles.”

Kyle closed his eyes. The reality of Kenny leaving was peeking in now that the excitement was over. His body, which had been betraying him whenever he looked at Kenny, sunk. A concave chest.

_ Just play dead. Don’t move. Don’t think about it. _

In his dreams, he felt her hot breath again, felt the heavy paw on their backs again, but this time she dragged Kyle over and the last thing he sees is her small, amber eyes before the jaw encloses his face.

He wakes up shaking. Above him, he can hear faint music.

“Ken, are you awake?”

“Hm.”

Kyle rolled onto his back. “What are you listening to?”

“The Beatles.”

“Can I listen with you? I can’t sleep.”

“Uh, sure.”

Kyle climbed onto the mattress with him and buried his face into Kenny’s arm. Kenny gave him an earbud, his body tense from the sudden affection and a weak arm around his torso. After a few minutes, he faded into it, drifting off to sleep, the lyrics of “Good Day, Sunshine,” stringing through both of them. 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Good Day, Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: Music

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ I need to laugh, and when the sun is out _

_ I’ve got something I can laugh about _

_ I feel good in a special way _

_ I’m in love and it’s a sunny day _

Facebook Message:

May 26, 2013

Kenny: happy birthday kyle!

Kyle: thanks :)

Kenny: My number changed btw (586) 817-1757

Kyle: o ok cool. how’s michigan?

Kenny: it’s okay. everyone here sounds so canadian lol

Kyle: lol

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ We take a walk, the sun is shining down _

_ Burns my feet as they touch the ground _

February 14, 2014

Kyle: i saw this big ass opossum and it made me think of you lol

Kenny: haha nice

Kyle: hey i was thinking maybe this summer you could come visit? My parents would let you stay

Kenny: omg yeah that would be cool

June 7, 2014

Kenny: do you think you’ll be able to come?

Kenny: idk… i just got a summer job at this ice cream place… i’m sorry :/

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ And then we lie, beneath a shady tree _

_ I love her and she’s loving me _

March 2, 2015

Kenny: Hey dude, how have you been?

Kyle: Not too shabby. How are you?

Kenny: Pretty good! I finally got a girlfriend!

Kyle: Figured you would at some point lol

Kenny: What do you mean?

Kyle: I just mean you’re a nice guy

_ She feels good, she knows she’s looking fine _

_ I’m so proud to know that she is mine _

November 9, 2016

Kyle Broflovski status update: “I am so disappointed in this country #notmypresident”

Kenny McCormick likes this.

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

July 4, 2017

Kyle Broflovski watches fireworks with his family. He doesn’t think much about Kenny anymore. Only sometimes when he’s lying awake in bed thinking about mistakes he’s made. 

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

_ Good day sunshine _

April 14, 2018

Kenny McCormick status update: “I got accepted to Oakland University! I start the engineering program this fall!”

Kyle Broflovski and 79 others like this.

May 21, 2018

Kyle Broflovski status update: “Rest in peace to my amazing mom. You’ve always let me come to you in times of trouble. I hope that you were proud of me. Love you, always.”

Kenny McCormick commented: “So sorry for your loss, Kyle. She was a sweet lady.”

_ Good day sunshine.  _

* * *

It had been a year after graduation and Kyle hated college. Not so much the school itself, but the loneliness that came with driving to classes, driving to work, coming home and speaking to no one. Even Ike, who used to cling to his older brother for guidance and support, now alienated himself from Kyle. Their father kept busy with work. 

For finals, Kyle started brewing coffee in his room. He hardly came to dinner, hardly went outside. He masturbated into his socks and ate strawberry Pop-Tarts for breakfast. If Kenny still lived in South Park, he might have told him all of this, but they hadn’t spoken directly in almost two years. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged him.

When the snow melted and the air was replaced by thawing manure and puddle of rainwater mixed with oil leaks, Kyle finally admitted to himself that he was unhappy.

The program he was in was general studies that would branch into psychology. But he started to wonder if he would be able to help anyone else if he couldn’t help himself.

On some weekends and holidays, Kyle played piano for the residents of the South Park Senior Center. They liked him because he was quiet and played whatever they asked him: Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan - but he hesitated when they asked for the Beatles, but did it anyway. He’d press the keys for “Let It Be” and try not to think about Kenny’s face.

Kyle flips a coin. If it lands heads, he will leave Colorado. Leave his motherless house and pretend he’s okay. Maybe he’ll apply to Oakland too. If it lands on tails, he won’t go. He takes a breath in the middle of his bedroom and flips. The quarter lands on the carpet. Tails.

He remembers that night they shared a bed and music. After that, up until Kenny left, they continued to do so every weekend. Lay side by side, stare at the ceiling and listen to The Beatles. 

Eventually, Big Bertha died of natural causes, finally giving Kenny credit for what he saw, though he wasn’t there to receive it. Her body, stuffed and groomed, was posed by the front office of South Park High School. When Kyle stayed late nights for robotics club, he feared she would come to life and finally kill him.

“No,” he says to himself, staring down at the rusted coin, “Fuck it.”

* * *

He gets an on-campus job. It doesn’t give many hours and pays minimum wage but it’s something to do in between classes. He’s a front desk assistant and is given a black polo with “Oakland University Gender and Sexuality Center” embroidered on the chest. He applies for this job because he can’t help himself. He has suspicions about himself that lurk like flatfish in dark waters. 

Kenny McCormick hasn’t appeared yet. He doubts that he will. The school may not be as large as Michigan State, but the students were still packed like sardines, making it hard to tell one face from another. 

He stays quiet and doesn’t get to know his co-workers. But he volunteers to cover other people’s shifts and do the tabling events.

The first tabling event - a “Welcome Back!” festival - is when it happens. Kyle is mumbling to someone about Pride Month when the mascot, a grizzly bear in a basketball uniform, eyebrows angled down in a fierce gaze, grinning wide and savage, with ivory teeth the size of Kyle’s thumbs. He stiffens.

Someone at the table next to him chirps, “Hi, Grizz!”

Grizz dances up to the Gender and Sexuality Table and Kyle is tempted to hide behind the tri-fold, but he doesn’t move. He plays dead. Tries to be brave. He’s never cared for mascots. Especially bear ones. 

At first, Grizz grabs pawfuls of the Skittles and Starbursts on Kyle’s table. Grizz’s chaperone, a girl with a long, blonde ponytail wearing a student congress tee shirt, chides him, “No, no Grizz! You can’t take all the candy! Only one!” She picks up a pack of fun size Skittles and waves it in front of his fake eyes.

Grizz nods excitedly. He turns again to Kyle, then points to the pile of pronoun buttons, jumps up and down clapping his paws together, and grabs one. Kyle, timid, hands sweating, pushes a Sharpie toward him. 

Sloppily, under “Hello! My Pronouns Are:” he writes “Grizz :).” Ponytail Girl pins it to his mesh basketball uniform. 

Grizz makes a heart with his arms at Kyle, whose eyes go wide as he awkwardly tries to return the gesture.

“Grizz  _ loves _ the GSC,” states Ponytail Girl.

He nods, then stretches out his furry arms.

“Do you want a hug from Grizz?” she asks.

Kyle wants to say  _ oh God, fuck no, _ but walks around the table and gingerly hugs the thing, wondering why the person inside wanted to hug him so badly. He barely said anything. The person inside hugs him tight. 

Then he hears, faintly as harp, mountains away: “I’m sorry about your mom.”


	3. The Hero and the Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Alternate Universe (Stick of Truth)
> 
> I’m trying so hard to get these in, please forgive me!

**Summer 2010**

“Don’t laugh,” Kenny demanded, reaching into his closet.

“I won’t,” Kyle was already in his red robe with gold garniture and crown.

“Bullshit. You laugh at everything.”

Kyle made the ‘my lips are sealed’ gesture, dragging his thumb and forefinger across his lips and chucking an invisible trinket over his shoulder.

“Are you… throwing away a zipper or a key? Because it looked like you were zipping your lips but you’re not supposed to throw the zipper out.”

“Oh my god, stop stalling.”

“Fine,” Kenny pulled out a long, ivory dress with a purple top. 

Kyle cocked his head, “Looks a little big for Karen.”

“It’s not for Karen,” Kenny sighed, “It’s for me.”

“You want to be a girl again?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“The guys are going to rip you apart, dude.”

“Not if you back me up.”

“I…”

“Look, Cartman has a soft spot for your ass and I don’t know why,” Kenny said this with a bit of bitterness that confused Kyle, “So, if you could just get him to not be a dick, everyone will follow his lead.”

“That Kentucky-fried fuck never listens to me. I don’t know where you get that from. And he’ll never  _ not  _ be a dick, by the way.”

Kenny sat next to him, the dress crumpling in his lap, “Whenever he gets in trouble, he always asks you for help.”

“Yeah, and he takes my advice and interprets it whichever way he wants. He doesn’t have a soft spot for me, okay? He’s just an idiot. An idiot that you should pay attention to.”

“Okay, like, part of my brain knows that-”

“-go with that part of your brain then. Look, if someone gives you shit for it, I’ll knock ‘em out.”

“You actually would?”

“Hell yeah. You’re my best friend. I don’t care if you’re wearing pants or a skirt.”

Kenny smiled, “If anyone would understand, I knew it would be you.”

“Yeah, well…” Kyle turned away, knowing his face was turning crimson. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me. Besides, there always has to be a princess. Pretty sure that’s a rule for the fantasy stuff.”

“Oh, you’re not  _ Lady _ McCormick anymore? You’ve upgraded to Princess?”

“Of course,” Kenny waved a hand over his body, “I don’t look like royalty to you?”

“Nah,” Kyle took off his crown and planted it on Kenny, “Now you do.”

“Dude, I’m not taking your crown.”

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you. I can make another one out of sticks ‘n shit. It’ll be more elf-y looking. But this one-” he declared, fixing the tilt, “Looks better on you. Please keep it.”

* * *

It didn’t surprise Kyle that this would be how he was reunited with Kenny. Kenny was, by nature, someone that could dissolve into anything. Any role, any character, and make it his own. Maybe it was the reason so many people loved him. Kenny was whatever they wanted him to be. He could change depending on who he talked to. 

Of course, they had to meet through a mask.

After the hug, Grizz and his chaperone were approached by a family wanting selfies. He was a little flattered that he was recognized right away. He had been so sure that he was forgotten.


	4. Laundry Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Rain

Normally, he loved laundry day. The feeling of clean clothes in his hands, as if they were made new again, gave him a sense of comfort.

Softly whirring machines in general, he loved very much. The sound of a dishwasher running at night while he melted into the living room couch and watched Saturday Night Live was a dream. He lived for these sensations.

Cleaning was the one thing he had control over. 

And all of it was destroyed by his roommate, Jarrod.

Jarrod chewed too loud, never silenced his phone, left his empty noodle bowls on the floor, let dishes pile up in the sink, used almost all of Kyle’s sunscreen, and worst of all: he never put a sock on the door when he was sleeping with someone. Time and time again, Kyle unlocked the door to see taints in unpleasant places. He often stood outside the door for a moment, trying to listen for telling sounds before going inside.

This particular evening, lightning storms were striking through Auburn Hills. Rain poured down sideways and thunder shot its way so far down Kyle’s eardrums that he couldn’t be bothered to listen for Jarrod’s wheezing groans and some poor girl about to get gonorrhea. 

He knocked twice, bellowed “I’m coming in!”, then cracked open the door. His red, curly hair dripping like a mop all over his face.

There was a girl in the bed, though she still had a tee-shirt on.

“Hey man,” Jarrod had his arms behind his head, grinning. It became glaringly obvious to Kyle that she had been giving him a handjob under the blanket. “This is Amber.”

“Hi, Amber,” Kyle said flippantly. “I’ll leave you guys alone in a sec, I just need to get the laundry.”

He swiped a towel from the bathroom, drying his face and hair. 

Jarrod called out to him, “Dude, I was  _ just _ downstairs and the laundry room was busy as fuck.”

Kyle shrugged. He whipped the towel into the tall, white basket. “I’ll go to the laundromat.”

“In this rain?”

“I’m from Colorado, dude. I’ve driven through worse,” he said, dragging it through the minuscule room to the front door. 

Amber whispered something in Jarrod’s ear, then flashed a smile at Kyle, who was bent over re-tying his shoes.

“Hey, Kyle. Amber has an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

Kyle stood up and looked at them, “Oh, Nah, dude. You can have your privacy. I’ll be an hour and a half at the most.”

“No, we mean, like, you can join us if you want.”

Kyle Broflovski was a polite person. Always tried to keep a poker face no matter what people said to him. But he knew for a fact that Jarrod more than likely had a two-day-old eggroll hidden in his bedsheets and he tried not to gag while thinking about it. 

He quickly opened the door, muttered a rushed goodbye, and left.

* * *

Bubbles Coin Laundry stood in a plaza off Walton Boulevard, not too far from the apartments. 

When he entered, the smell of fabric softener hit him like a thin blanket hanging on a line. Fake plants wavered with the air conditioning. A small television echoed the local news throughout the room.

Kyle wiped rainwater off his brow and stared down the rows of washing machines. It looked like they took debit cards, thankfully. He never had cash on him anymore. 

He watched a blonde boy, over in the corner, pressing buttons on one of the machines, so that he could see how it was done. Kyle lugged the basket to the nearest and machine, squat down, and started loading. His wardrobe wasn’t anything declarative - a lot of plain tee-shirts, sweatpants, and jeans. The only thing that was set apart was the yellow Casa Bonita shirt from the last time they went for his birthday before Sheila died. He stared at this shirt for a moment before turning it inside out and throwing it in. 

The boy in the corner walked past him, stopped, and turned around.

“Kyle?”

Kyle stiffened. That voice. It was different in tone, but the way he said his name…

Kyle turned around and looked up at Kenny. Both of them had wide eyes, but Kenny was grinning. He grabbed Kyle’s hand and pulled him up into a hug, “Dude!”

“H-Hi, Ken,” Kyle awkwardly pat him on the back. The amount of strength that Kenny was putting into this hug was the same as Grizz’s hug.

They separated. Kenny put his hands on Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle noticed that Kenny had on a little mascara. His shirt had a drawing of a cinnamon bun and said “Cinnamon Rolls, Not Gender Roles.”

“So  _ that’s _ why you love the GSC so much,” Kyle blurted.

“Huh?”

“I… your shirt.”

“Oh,” Kenny glanced down at it, “Yeah, this thing. I love this shirt.”

Kyle took a step back, “I didn’t think I would ever see you. At least not here.”

“I saw  _ you _ .”

“I know you did… Grizz.”

Kenny chuckled, “You caught me.”

* * *

They sat with each other, watching their laundry tumble in soap and water while the windows were assaulted by quarter-sized bullets of rain. 

“So what are you majoring in?” Kenny asked, shifting in the plastic seat. 

“Um, political science. And music.”

“Holy shit, you’re double-majoring?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t make up my mind, I guess.”

“Oh dude, are you gonna be like Tom Morello and go all Rage Against the Machine on everyone?”

“Ha, no,” Kyle nervously rubbed his hands together, “No, I’m not that cool. I play the piano.”

“Piano’s cool. What’s your favorite thing to play?”

Kyle swallowed. He glanced up at his clothes, hoping that they would be done so he’d have a reason to get up. They were still spinning. “The Beatles.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Kenny sighed, “I am really sorry about your mom. Can I ask what happened?”

A tingling sensation flourished in his knees, where he fell on them to the hospital floor, upon finding his dead mother. They busted open, leaving permanent scars. 

“She just… got sick one day. She wouldn’t stop throwing up, so we took her to urgent care, and they referred us to someone else and… they said she had lung cancer. Lung cancer. She wasn’t even a smoker. We didn’t understand, how… I don’t know. But no even six weeks later, she died. She was gone just like that.”

“I am so sorry…”

“She kept telling me the whole time to be positive… that if I keep putting good thoughts into the universe it’ll come back to us and everything will be okay. But I kept being cynical. Sometimes I just wanted to shake her and tell her she was being insane. She was barely a bag of bones by the time she died. And I wonder, still, if I had just believed her, she might still be here… that I might have killed her-”

“-Kyle, stop, no. No. It’s not your fault,” he grabbed Kyle’s fidgeting hand, “I think she just wanted you to have something to hope for, even if it wasn’t realistic. You know, something to keep you going.”

Outside, the rain let up a little, and the evening sun peeked through.

“Thank you,” Kyle whispered. No one, not even his own father, told him anything nearly as comforting. With a sniffle, he turned to Kenny, who was still holding his hand.

“So, what is all this? You’ve got mascara on.”

“Oh, I’m just, you know,” Kenny shrugged, “Being myself.”

Kyle smiled, “Well, you pull it off really well.”

  
  



	5. I Love You, But I'm Turning to My Verse and My Heart is Closing Like a Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Wedding

Book flat open on his face like cool, gutted fish, the rest of his body warm under the September sun - it was Saturday, the first day after an onslaught of storms, and the sun finally had shown herself. Everyone slowly filed outside in their holey jeans and university sweatshirts, walking in groups and avoiding puddles. 

Kyle left a snoring Jarrod that morning, taking advantage of the empty hammocks by Bear Lake. He was reading all about in-house musicians of the 1700s, the people who wrote what they were told in exchange for food and board by the royalty and the wealthy.

_ What a life… but what if you burn out and can’t write songs for a while?  _ He thought, before drifting into a shallow sleep. People’s conversations became white noise to the dream, and the lake’s fountain a sporadic pounding of water meeting water. He dreamed about the laundromat, his mother, Big Bertha, the stuffed grizzly in the Oakland Center, and hazel eyes.

Those hazel eyes found Kyle as he was skateboarding along, recognizing the body stretched out with a book over his face. Kenny flipped up his skateboard and approached him.

“Hey, Broflovski,” he grabbed at his ankle.

Kyle groaned, pushed the book down. “Oh, fuck. Dude… how long was I out?”

“I don’t know. I just got here,” Kenny shrugged. He threw the skateboard into the grass, “Move over.”

“Wow, so polite,” Kyle said, but he scooted over anyway.

Kenny rolled in beside him, arms narrowly at his sides, nearly tipping them over.

“Don’t rock the boat, bitch,” Kyle laughed.

“I’m trying! This thing is so unstable.”

“You’re unstable.”

“We’re all unstable.”

“Yup.”

They stared up at the sky for a moment. One cloud, Kyle noticed looked like a disfigured, angry woman, mouth upturned to scream, her body fused with a scorpion. He could relate.

“Hey, Kyle?” Kenny’s voice was hushed as if here were whispering a password under a door, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Um, sure.”

“Not hypothetical this time.”

“Oh… yeah, of course.”

“Why did you come to Oakland?”

The woman in the sky began to pull apart like cotton candy.

“I, just… You know, thought it looked like a good school for me.”

“Dude, this is a research university. It’s a great school but it’s not really well-known for its poli-sci and music programs. You could be going to Harvard or Julliard or some shit.”

“Oh, shut up. I would never be able to get into those places.”

“Yeah, you would. You totally could.”

“Sure.”

“You gonna answer my question, Kyle?”

Kyle sighed. He tried focusing on another cloud, “Look, after you left, I had no one. I saw Stan and Cartman and those guys sometimes but I was mostly by myself. Everything was a big, giant blur until my mom got sick, and then time kind of… stopped? I guess? Then suddenly everyone felt bad for me and acted like they wanted to be my friend when I knew deep down they didn’t actually care about me. I mean, I went to prom with  _ Cartman, _ for fuck’s sake. Cartman.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I swear to God. I didn’t even want to go to prom. My mom made me.”

“That sounds traumatizing.”

“It was. That dude really,  _ really  _ love Justin Timberlake.”

“Why am I not surprised…”

“Fucking ‘SexyBack’ came on and he did a god damn split and ripped his pants.”

“Please tell me you have a video of this.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t. It was definitely a ‘you had to be there’ moment. I wish you could have seen it,” Kyle went suddenly silent. He could build up to it as much as he wanted, but he’d have to end his introduction and get to the bullet points soon. “I guess I just really needed to be somewhere else. I’ve been in the same place my whole life. And you’ve really seemed to like it here. At least from what I could see from the pictures you posted. I don’t know, I needed a change but I also wanted something familiar. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“Okay, good. Sometimes I ramble and I lose people.”

“No, I get what you mean to say, but you’re also kind of talking around the real answer. Just say it, Kyle.”

“What?” Kyle turned his head to him, “Say what?”

“Just say that you moved here because of me.”

“I… don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re a bad liar. I can see right through you,” Kenny tossed his leg over and left the hammock. He grabbed Kyle’s hand and pulled him out, “Let’s go do something.”

* * *

They walked through Civic Center Park, Kenny pacing himself on the skateboard, Kyle walking next to him, using his textbook as a shield from the sun. 

“There’s a lot of people here,” Kyle noted, tightening his shoulders whenever someone walked past.

“No kidding. You wanna try the skateboard?”

“Why would I want that?”

“So you can run people over,” he hopped off and took Kyle’s textbook.

“No, I don’t think-”

“-it won’t kill you, dude. Just try for five seconds.”

“Fine,” Kyle gingerly stepped onto the board, immediately realizing how much he took for granted a sense of balance all these years. Kenny held on to his elbow as they slowly coasted the asphalt path. 

“You’re doing it.”

“You’re helping.”

Kenny moved his hand up Kyle’s arm, his fingers sliding up the sleeve of his tee-shirt, “Nothing wrong with that.”

Kyle swallowed and looked ahead. In the distance, crowded around a gazebo, he could see a wedding party in the middle of the ceremony. “We shouldn’t get too close. I don’t want to end up in someone’s wedding video.”

“Right, you’ll be in your own eventually.”

“Doubt that,” Kyle said, a bit too quickly, and put his foot down, stopping the skateboard.

“What?” Kenny glanced over the small group, bridesmaids swathed in lavender, “You don’t think that’ll be you someday?”

Kyle shrugged, “No one would ever love me enough for that.”

“If it makes you feel better, some people get married just ‘cause they’re bored.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “It’s all stupid, anyway. It’s just a piece of paper with a tax break.”

“Well, yeah, but you know, you’re a pretty good-looking dude. Some girl will pick you up.”

With a scoff, Kyle turned off the path and into the grass, toward the woods. 

“Uh, some guy then? Some… them?” he followed Kyle into the woods, now carrying both a skateboard and book like a pack mule. They stepped over tall grass, the smell of damp earth and the sound of crunching leaves surrounded them. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just… uncomfortable with how you can read me so well.”

“I’ve known you my whole life, of course, I can read you.”

“You haven’t seen me in seven years.”

“It doesn’t matter. You haven’t changed.”

Kyle stopped and faced him, “And you have. A lot. I  _ feel _ this familiarity with you but then I look at you and it’s like I’ve never met you before. You’re all peppy and you wear make-up… I don’t even know what to call you. I don’t know your pronouns, I don’t know what your life has been like the past few years, I don’t know if you’re dating someone. I know  _ nothing _ about you.”

“Then  _ get to know me _ . I’m Kenny. I don’t care what pronouns you use, my high school experience was average and my family is a typical family with a middle-class income. I graduated with honors and got accepted here. My dad still works at Ford and so does my brother now. My mom is a cashier at 7-11. My sister is an assistant ballet teacher. And no. I’m not seeing anyone. I don’t get why you don’t just ask, Kyle. Maybe you would make more friends if you did.”

Kyle’s mouth opened, wanting to retort. Kenny was right, as always. But he didn’t want to not have  _ something _ to say. 

“I just don’t want to get hurt. People suck.”

Kenny furrowed their brow, “What kind of 12-year old response is that?”

Kyle stammered, trying to find words that would stab him back. His brain failed him.

“Dude, you can’t be afraid of getting hurt. Like, I get that getting hurt really fucking sucks, and yeah, people can be awful, but if you don’t put yourself out there, then  _ nothing _ will ever happen for you.”

“I don’t trust people.”

“I understand, but Kyle, not every single person is out to get you. You can’t keep walls up all the time. It doesn’t work. I know you don’t want to be hurt but the right kind of person will be worth hurting for.”

Kyle leaned against a tree, studying Kenny’s face, his nose shining from sweat.

“When your mom got sick and she kept acting like it was no big deal, didn’t that hurt you?”

“Yes,” he answered softly.

“And even though you wanted to shake her, tell her to get a grip, you didn’t. You love your mom and that’ll never change,” he stepped up to Kyle, set the stuff down, and squared in close. “Ky, if you let the fear of being hurt dilute every other good thing in your life… then you won’t have a life. I mean, some part of you has to know that. Look at us right now. Didn’t I hurt you by moving away?”

“That’s not your fault, though.”

“No, but it still hurt. It made such an emotional impact on you that it made you make a huge change in your life. You got out of your box because you were driven by hurt. You got out of a situation that was making you unhappy.”

“I’m  _ always _ unhappy.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you at the GSC table when you’re talking to people. You… light up and never flicker.”

Kyle quietly scoffed, “I don’t know how you want me to respond to all of this.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Surprised, I guess? Um, warm.”

“When are you going to let me in?”

“Huh?”

Kenny put a hand up by Kyle’s head, “I said, ‘when are you going to let me in?’”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t do that. I don’t want to do that, okay? I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me this past week. The way you’ve been looking at me all day. Only lovesick bush babies look the way you do.”

“Oh, I…”

“Just tell me what you want.”

The last time Kyle told someone what he wanted was a late night in Frankie’s Cafe, nursing his third latte that day. It always came out as  _ Hi, sorry, may I please have a mocha with two extra shots? If that’s okay.  _ He didn’t want to speak this way anymore.

“I want you to kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase "I love you, but I’m turning to my verse and my heart is closing like a fist" is from Frank O’Hara’s poem “Mayakovsky.”


	6. For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Hospital

Whenever he sees his hands, they become his father’s hands: blotchy pink, callused, with round, short fingers, and wide nails. On his wrist, the male his mother gave him. On his wrist, the mole his mother gave him. Sometimes he fantasizes about sloughing it off like a shovel. He imagines that by the time he’s 40, it’ll larger, maybe misshapen. 

Kenny held these hands, kissed these wrists, saying “Please, please. I need you to do this for me…”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

After their kiss- brief and still-motion, Kenny backed away. Not paying attention, he slipped in the mud, falling and twisting his ankle. Kyle went to help them up, but Kenny couldn’t stand on his own.

They went to the nearest urgent care, Kenny propped up on the skateboard, one leg raised like a flamingo.

The scent of sanitizer hit them, and Kyle was transported back to his mother’s hospital room, the ties of her hospital gown undone around her collarbone, her mouth, Kyle’s mouth, a sallow frown.

Doctor Didion told the boys that Kenny only had a sprained ankle and needed to keep off of it for a few days.

“There’s no one else that can do it and there’s another GrizzFest on Monday,” he pleaded from the wheelchair while they waited for another nurse.

“What about that girl that’s always with you?”

“Who, Maddie? She’s in Ohio right now, otherwise, she would.”

“But I was never trained for it…”

“It’s not that hard. You never take your eyes off me when I’m in it, so I know you know what to do.”

“I stare because I’m terrified.”

“You were terrified when you kissed me an hour ago but you still did it.”

Kyle’s face burned. He couldn’t help but think of how much easier it would have been if he had stayed inside today. Kenny wouldn’t have been hurt, and he wouldn’t be in this anxiety-inducing situation. But he looked down at Kenny’s hands clasping his own. “Fine. I’ll do it. For you.”


	7. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven: Stars

The skull smelled of sweat and Kenny’s hair gel. 

“Talk about immersive therapy,” Kenny sat on a plastic chair behind the curtain with him, foot propped up on another chair. He stared at the suited Kyle with a grin.

“That’s not funny,” Kyle held the had out in front of him, the large plastic eyes staring back at him. On the other side of the curtain, the buzzing of students and music swelled.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember what I told you. Walk around the tables, take the selfies. That’s  _ all _ you need to do. Maybe dance around a little, too.”

“I’m not a good dancer.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not either. I just play “Mambo No. 5” in my head and that does that gets me going.”

“Mambo No. 5?”

“Yeah, you know:  _ a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita is all I need-” _

“-Okay, I got it.”

“I guess now I’ll have to sing  _ a little bit of  _ ** _Kyle_ ** _ in my life, a little bit of  _ ** _Kyle_ ** _ by my side _ …”

“Oh god, you made it worse.”

“I’m messing with you, babe.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Because it’s fucking adorable when your face gets all scrunched up like that.”

“Asshole.”

Kyle put the head on. Now he could only see Kenny through the mesh.

“How do you feel? Can you see okay?”

Kyle wordlessly raised his arms into a heart. Kenny formed his hands into the same, silent gesture.

_ Maybe, if I keep thinking I’ll do a good job, then I will,  _ Kyle thought, parting the curtain and stepping into the light.

* * *

One of the first smells he remembers enjoying was inside the bakery right outside of town. Whenever he passed a test or had his weekly chores done on time, Sheila took Kyle for one cupcake of his choice. He almost always chose chocolate. He loved the smell of warm, baking bread, the aroma of sweetness, the love. He wanted to be there.

After taking the mask off the fresh air mixed with Kenny’s cologne, cinnamon and vanilla, became a new favorite, with that familiar warmth.

* * *

“Boop,” Kenny stuck a gold star onto the tip of Kyle’s nose.

They were in a private study room on the fourth floor of Kresge Library.

“Boop,” he planted another sticker on Kyle’s cheek.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Putting stickers on you? I stole them from the Office of Student Involvement. Don’t worry about it.”

Kyle turned away from his studies, peeled a star off the sticker sheet and stuck it to Kenny’s nose.

“And why are we doing this, Ken?” he asked.

Kenny shrugged, “I wanted to get an actual, like, gold badge kind of star for you, but I’m broke. So this is my solution for now,” he placed another one in Kyle’s hair.

  
“You don’t have to get me anything,” Kyle took another one and pinned it to Kenny’s chest.

“Well, you did a great job.”

“I’m glad I could help… but please, don’t ever make me do that again.”

“Noted,” Kenny kissed the star-studded Kyle, “Thanks for…  _ bearing _ with me.”

“Oh my god,” Kyle groaned. He opened Spotify on his phone, plugged in earphones, and handed one to Kenny. Once again, the lyrics of “Good Day, Sunshine” threaded between them, through the next three years and after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my K2 week story, even though it was late!!!


End file.
